the light of crowns, the dark of dreams

[eyefire]

( from here. )
[ "Hold onto me and we shall fly like dragons."

The firestorm that spins up from the ground to surround them exists outside a thin barrier that his power keeps from doing any harm, whirling up with magma from the rocks beneath their feet until all sensation of standing is gone and there is a freefall, like flying perhaps, for a host of seconds where he cradles Adar to keep him from falling into the nothingness of a world absent outside the tornado. The lava hardens, the hot breeze dies down, and their feet touch a floor of shining obsidian very much like the kind that plated Angband.

He listens to Adar's breathing for a moment, enjoying how loud it is, then the circular wall around them cracks and falls away, crumbling to reveal a room full of inky shadow and an unseeable ceiling. A bed towers close by, the posters of it hung with satin so smooth it could be oil-slick, and all is silent.

Sauron's soft golden glow illuminates a little, but he raises a hand from Adar and ignites the candelabra overhead to assist with a dim light like sunset. All the while, his gaze never leaves his uruk general. ]

Welcome.

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[callmeadar]

[He obeyed without thinking, not needing to be told twice to draw closer to Sauron, knowing full well that that was not just where he wanted to be but often the safest place, as long as he was not angry.

He was not angry now, on the contrary, Adar felt like he was curled close to the fire on an otherwise freezing night. The fear that flickered through him when the ground fell away was immediately calmed by how solid his master felt through all of it. He could not be harmed while he was held so, none of the beasts or secrets of the earth would dare touch them. His heart still thunders, despite that confidence, and when the ground is solid again and real he has to fight a moment of dizziness before he can take in their new surroundings, or what of them he can see in the dark and without turning in Sauron's arms.

He does not need to see the whole room to know what it is. Nor does he find he cares, not when in leaning ever so slightly back to look at the room better he first sees Sauron. It was clearer in the dark, his radiance, his warmth, his beauty which even with those flaming, piercing eyes makes the black blood running through Adar's veins hot.

His mouth feels dry again when he speaks.]

Thank you, my lord. [A beat, then.] It looks like home. [He thinks. He assumes. He still hasn't managed to draw his gaze away from Sauron, fixated on the soft glow of his skin, the golden strands of his hair, and the very tempting length of his throat that he dare not do more than gaze upon.]